


On Edge

by authoressnebula (authoressjean)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brother Feels, Brotherly Angst, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 05, Protective Dean Winchester, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), somewhere mid season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressnebula
Summary: Post season 5. Being chased by a naga isn't Dean's idea of a fun time, and neither is being pinned up against a cliff with a steep drop. It can't get much worse.Then Sam completely freezes and won't follow him to safety, and it turns out, it can.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 126





	On Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from LiveJournal.

Running hurt, in that high altitude can't breathe sort of way. In fact, it was currently taking all of Dean's facilities to focus on pushing air in and out of his lungs. Hey, take a few months off of hunting or doing anything beyond drinking yourself into a stupor just so you could sleep at night, and you were bound to be a tad out of shape. Not too badly, though.  
  
Honestly, anyone that ran up and down a mountain with a naga on your ass was bound to gasp a little, though. So Dean felt a little justified.  
  
Especially since Sam was panting right beside him. Not that he wanted his brother out of shape, but knowing he was even par with Dean helped.  
  
And then there was that tiny thing where he could hear Sam, see him out of the corner of his eye. That Sam was alive. That Sam wasn't rotting in some pit somewhere with Lucifer to keep him company.  
  
Roots jutting out of the ground took his attention back to the present moment, as did the hiss of frustration from an increasingly pissed off naga. “Left!” he shouted, and Sam moved with him, in sync as always. If they could get to the open plains, they actually had a better chance. The naga didn't like leaving its water for too long, and it sure as hell didn't like the grassy plains. So the plains were a better place then, oh, say, the damp forest, where every step you took felt squishy. Nagas liked squishy, wet places.  
  
Except going left didn't take them to the plains, like Dean wanted. It took them straight to the rocky edge of a very, very long fall into a deep ravine. “Woah!” Dean yelped, pulling himself back before he could topple over. Below, and a very far down below, he could spot the paths. The trail would lead them straight back to the parking lot where the Impala was.  
  
It was just a matter of getting down there, that was all.  
  
Castiel was due to show up in the next ten minutes or so, but it was ten minutes later than they needed at the moment. Dean frantically scanned the edge until he found what he was looking for: a way down. A small ledge jutted out and sloped gently down to a bigger ledge, near a steep hill layered with trees. Perfect. “Ladies first,” Dean joked, turning back towards Sam. Then he frowned, because hey, Sam wasn't behind him. “Sam?” he called, swinging his head around further.  
  
There, pressed against the trees, was Sam. His brother was trembling with his arms wrapped behind him and around the trunk of the tree. His eyes were wide, and his feet were planted firmly on the ground. His gaze was locked on the edge, though, and even as Dean watched, Sam pushed himself back impossibly further into the tree.  
  
“Sam, c'mon,” Dean said, eyes searching beyond his brother for the naga. No big snake form was visible, though, and Dean couldn't hear the tell-tale swishing of its form through the trees. That didn't mean they were in the clear, though. “We've gotta get back down to the trail.”  
  
Sam didn't move. In fact, Dean was pretty sure his brother wasn't _breathing_. “Sam, now,” Dean barked. Truth was, the kid was starting to concern him. Worry and concern for his brother was pretty much a given, especially since he'd only gotten him back a month ago. But he had no clue what the hell was going on, and Dean really didn't want them both to wind up being snake chow. “Sam!”  
  
Sam jumped, startled at Dean's loud tone, but he made no move to leave the safety of the tree. Only when Dean stepped towards him did he move, but it was only further back into the forest. The squishy, wet, very dangerous forest. “Sam, no!” Dean shouted. The naga already knew where they were: there was no point to whispering.  
  
“No,” Sam said, a softer, but equally as desperate repeat of Dean's command. “No.”  
  
Dean turned back to the ledge, completely bewildered. Rocks, dirt, a few trees, and a steep drop. Sam sure as hell wasn't afraid of the dark, though he had every right to be. They'd taken cases during the night since Sam had returned from Hell. Sure, the height was pretty steep, but Sam wasn't afraid of heights. It was a little chilly out, but nothing freezing, like Castiel had said the bottom of the pit was like. Sam had sworn he didn't even _remember_ anything from his six month stint with Lucifer, so Dean had no idea what the hell was going on now.  
  
“Sam,” Dean said, softening his voice and moving towards his brother. “The naga's still out here. We have to get out of here. We didn't come prepared for a pissed off water snake: we came prepared for a tiny water sprite. Remember that whole flame-thrower idea of yours from last week? We're totally gonna do that, but we've gotta go back to get it.” He reached out slowly, as if towards a caged animal, and gently took Sam's elbow to lead him.  
  
It worked for all of three steps, until Sam got close enough to see past the edge. “No!” he shouted, pulling out of Dean's grasp like he'd been burned. “I...I can't, I...”  
  
From beyond the trees, there was a rustling sound. Dean froze, his head shooting up. No sign of the naga or its bright eyes, but Dean wasn't ready to write the sound off as the wind yet, either. “Sammy, we have to move,” Dean said, his voice pleading with his brother to go, to move, _now_. His heart beat fast in his chest again, just like it had moments before when he'd raced through the forest. There was a naga on their ass and Sam was freaking out about god knew what, and Dean didn't have a way to deal with or help with either one.  
  
Sam was still staring at the edge, eyes filled with fear in a way they shouldn't have been. They weren't moving, not unless Castiel came to magically put them on the bottom. Rate they were moving, it was a possibility. Dean finally crouched next to Sam and put his hand on Sam's knee. The joint trembled under his hand as Sam shook and shook. “Talk to me,” Dean said softly, like they weren't outside in the early morning hours, a naga on their ass. Wasn't any different then any of the other times they'd stopped in a motel room, and Sam had awakened from a nightmare he swore he couldn't remember details from. Or at the diners they drove through, where Sam would suddenly get quiet and Dean would just talk to him. They'd talked more in the last month then the rest of their lives, Dean was pretty certain.  
  
Sam was still shaking, though, and nothing was coming out. Dean's eyes scanned the foliage beyond them, trying to see movement. Just the wind. At least, that's what he hoped it was. “Sammy,” Dean coaxed, keeping his voice low and soft. He refused to back Sam into a corner again, refused to argue and yell. Never again, he'd sworn when he'd gotten Sam back that night from Lucifer's cage. He wasn't pushing Sam away for anything; not for demon blood or the kid taking the last sip of coffee from the cup. And he sure as hell wasn't starting now, not when Sam looked more fragile and terrified than Dean had seen him in a long time.  
  
Sam swallowed hard, making Dean wince. “I-I can't,” he whispered, his eyes still stuck on the ledge. “I can't...I'll fall-”  
  
And even as Dean began to tell him that he was a good climber, he wouldn't fall, his mind shoved him back to a day and a memory he wished he could forget. Of Sam backing towards the hole, wind whipping hair into his eyes, a grimace that was supposed to be a smile on his face. Grabbing Adam-  
  
Falling. Falling into a very dark hole where he couldn't see the bottom. And while Dean could make out the bottom of the ravine, he'd had to search for it. It was still too dark out to see.  
  
Dean shut his eyes tight. “You won't fall,” he said roughly. “I swear to you, Sammy.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“I won't let you,” Dean emphasized, hands moving up to Sam's shoulders. Sam's eyes finally, finally slid over to Dean's, and Dean pinned him with his gaze. “I won't let you.”  
  
Sam didn't say anything, but he gave a small nod. He looked miserable and quiet, too quiet, just like he did after every nightmare he'd had recently. Dean pondered that silently for a moment, before finally giving in and asking. “Is this what the nightmares have been about lately? You tumbling down with Lucifer?”  
  
“Why do you think I make you turn all the lights on?” Sam whispered, shutting his eyes. “It's...god, it's vertigo and dark and that rushing feeling of a head-on collision except it won't end and I can't...I can't stop, I can't do anything...”  
  
Just the description was enough to make Dean feel dizzy. How the hell had Sam managed to even get up the mountain that afternoon? “It's okay, hey, it's okay,” he promised, wishing he could catch Sam's gaze again. But Sam was biting his lip and had his head bowed, and Dean could hear his harsh breaths as he tried to calm himself. “We're going nowhere near the ledge, okay? We'll find another way down. No dark holes, okay? No drops, nothing. You'll be fine. I'm not letting you fall again, you hear me?” And suddenly this was so important to say, both to himself and to Sam. Sam had his eyes open again, glancing at Dean through his bangs. “I won't,” Dean swore. He hadn't been able to stop it before, practically pinned down next to the Impala, unable to move. Even not as in shape as he'd been before, though, he wasn't pudgy by a long shot. And his big brother senses were as honed and sharp as they'd ever been.  
  
He leaned his head forward until his forehead was leaning against Sam's. “You hear me?” he said softly. “Not letting you fall. Not ever, not again. I swear to god, Sammy.”  
  
Sam nodded again, but this time he looked more sure of himself. There'd still be nightmares, possibly more after tonight, but Dean suddenly felt more confident. He knew what he was up against, and he wasn't gonna let Sam frickin' drown in this anymore. Big brother had never been more on top of things.  
  
“Dean, Sam.”  
  
They both turned towards the confused voice. “Where is the water sprite?” Castiel asked. A little more formal, after he'd returned to heaven, but there were still remnants of the human he'd been.  
  
“Not so much of a sprite as it was a pissed off snake,” Dean summarized. “We're not equipped, and I'm not doing this in the dark.”  
  
If Castiel saw the way Dean was still holding onto Sam, or the way Sam had decided to twist his fingers into the fabric of Dean's shirt, he said nothing. “Then we won't,” was all he said. “I can take you both down.”  
  
Being unaccustomed to jumping up made it difficult to swiftly stand, but then again, Dean was technically standing for two people, as Sam refused to let go, so he figured he was still doing well. Dean didn't think his brother even consciously knew what he was doing. “We ready?” Dean asked.  
  
Sam nodded hard. “Yeah. M'good.” If he'd said it without looking over Dean's shoulder towards the ravine, Dean might've believed him. Maybe.  
  
Castiel stepped towards them, seemingly uncaring of the edge and the ravine that tumbled after it. He did step behind Dean, however, firmly cutting off Sam's view. “I will deal with the naga,” he said after a moment. “There's no need for you both to have to re-climb the mountain tomorrow.”  
  
Dean could've kissed him when he saw Sam's face twist into relief. “Thanks, Cas,” was all he said instead, and hoped some of his gratitude made it into his voice.  
  
Castiel gave a small smile and took hold of them both by the shoulders. “Let us return to the ground,” he said. Sam's fingers tightened in Dean's shirt, making it pull tightly across his shoulders. Dean didn't really care: he kept Sam firmly in his grasp, too. Buffeted between a big brother and a angel, Sam wasn't anywhere close to the edge.  
  
And when they arrived on the flat ground of the parking lot, the sun began to peek over the mountain top, bright and completely blinding them both. Dean was pretty okay with that, and from Sam's smile, he was too.  
  
END


End file.
